


feels like everybody goes out and smiles for the 'gram (tried but i can't)

by annaaperson



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sad Will Solace, Will Solace-centric, hurt implied comfort, its not horribly angsty i promise, might write a second chapter thats just nico pampering Will, no beta we die like men, stay tuned, this is a vent fic and is sad, will angst, will feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29100186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaaperson/pseuds/annaaperson
Summary: Will looked at himself in the Apollo cabin mirror. The bathroom mirror specifically.Maybe ‘looked’ wasn't the appropriate word. Peered? Stared? Gazed? Studied?~aka, Will can't get his smile to look right. To look real.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	feels like everybody goes out and smiles for the 'gram (tried but i can't)

**Author's Note:**

> ayy whats up? This is not me abondoming my other fic. If you follow me on tumblr uh you might've seen that my mental health decided take a trip so I have had literally no motivation to do anything I want to or enjoy, including writing. But i was struck by some inspiration to do a vent fic and decided to post it for once instead of just letting it collect dust. This is purely a vent fic with me projecting heavily onto Will. (totally not based off true events haha) I promise i will get the Tartarus fic update soon but i would rather provide y'all with some content instead of none so here ya go
> 
> TW: there is content that could be counted as self harm. It's not very graphic or harsh but it does exist so please read at your own caution
> 
> fic title is from Anson Seabra song "I can't carry this anymore"

Will looked at himself in the Apollo cabin mirror. The bathroom mirror specifically. 

Maybe ‘looked’ wasn't the appropriate word. Peered? Stared? Gazed? Studied?

It didn’t matter. He looked down at the floor for the tenth time in half as many minutes. It hadn’t changed much. 

He might’ve wondered if Kayla or Austin would knock soon if it weren’t somewhere close to 3am. Even if the two decided to wake with the sun for once, he had a couple hours to himself. At least hopefully. It had definitely been around three when he entered the bathroom but time had a tendency to get fuzzy when he was like… _this_.

There wasn’t quite a good way to describe… however he felt when he was like this. ‘Dissociating’ felt like too harsh of a word. Sure, he didn’t really feel quite tethered to his body, and it was like the face in the mirror wasn’t his own, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t remembering anything. His mind was foggy, but he was still _there_ in some capacity. 

Maybe he just needed to try again. Maybe in the minute or so it had been since he tried, he had warped what he thought he saw. Maybe if he tried again, it would be right this time. It would look like him. It would look genuine. 

He looked up at the mirror. 

He smiled. 

Glanced down at his smile.

His smile flickered. 

He reinforced it. 

Smiled harder. 

He glanced up and his eyes met his gaze in the mirror. 

Something was still _off_. He didn’t get it, what was he doing wrong? What had changed? It wasn’t like anything majorly lifechanging had happened recently. If anything, he should’ve been happier for once! Things seemed to be settling down at camp for the first time in a long time, he was closer to the age that most counselors tended to be when they were chosen as a counselor, and he was in a stable relationship with a boy that somehow seemed to accept dating someone like Will. 

His smile should’ve looked better, should’ve looked real. But it _didn’t_. And that couldn’t happen. Will couldn’t let that happen. It _needed_ to look real, appear real. He couldn’t just let it slip after years of protecting what lay beneath. 

He tried again. 

Smile. 

Neutral. 

Smile. 

Neutral. 

Smile. 

Poke at his cheeks. 

No change. 

Neutral. 

Smile. 

Stretch out grin. 

Abnormal.

Neutral.

Smile.

Raise eyebrows. 

Unsettling. 

Neutral. 

Smile.

Smile.

_Smile._

It didn't change. Will banged his head back against the wall, softer than he wanted to in order to avoid waking up his siblings. He fought the tears of frustration that were threatening to fall down his face and make him appear more pathetic than he already was. 

Why wasn’t this working? Why was his smile deciding to choose now of all times to fuck up? Was this the gods idea of a joke? To let him skate by for years dependent on his smile to fuck it up in the end and let him deal with the consequences? 

Shaking, he pushed himself off the wall, teetering on unsteady feet as he looked towards the mirror once more. He could try again. Maybe it would turn out well this time. 

Smile.

Neutral.

Smile.

Neutral. 

Smile.

Will slapped himself across the cheek, barely registering the pain while he glanced back at the mirror. He _wishes_ he could tell himself it surprises him that he would do such a thing, that it scares him, that it's the first time it has ever happened. 

He can't.

But that's not the worst part.

The worst part is that it doesn't help. 

He stares at himself in the mirror, his cheek faintly forming a red handprint, the tears he had been trying to hold back slipping through. And he smiles. And it somehow looks worse. 

He slaps his other cheek.

He's dimly aware that he should probably _not_ be slapping himself when his siblings can hear, but the emotional brain never did have much room for logic. He learned that a long time ago. The infirmary had room for compassion but never much emotion. Having emotion in the infirmary was a death sentence, quite literally. He saved those emotions for the forest, where a monster was as likely to find him as a camper was. 

The slap doesn't change anything. He smiles. It still looks wrong. 

He has the urge to slap himself again, just like he always does. It’s addicting in a way. A small burst of pain that throbs and reminds him of which body is his. It’s not like he's knocking teeth out or drawing with bloody lines. It’s innocent enough to pretend like it means nothing. 

The urge dissipates as he hears shuffling come from beyond the door. His mind freezes for a moment before he grabs the washcloth and starts running the hot water. He waits until steam forms before wetting the washcloth and throwing it over his face, barely flinching at the water that drips down. He scrubs his face while ignoring the burning of his cheeks until the knock on the door finally comes. 

He turns the water off, throws the washcloth on the sink and half heartedly dries off his face with a towel before opening the door for Austin— the knock was too Austin-like for it to be Kayla— and making his way to his bed. He peeks out the window cautiously, mindful that Austin could come out at any second. 

5:46 am. He could work with that. He got under his covers as silent as only someone who has done this dozens of times before could be. 

Austin returns to his bed and Will waits. He waits until he can feel it in his bones that his cabin is once again sleeping. Then he moves carefully and silently walks out into the night. 

There was a point in time where he was scared of the cleaning harpies. He wondered if he dropped that fear before or after he had a brother die in front of him. 

It wasn’t a long walk to the infirmary. He was distantly glad that Chiron had finally approved of getting the infirmary its own separate building outside of the Big House. He knew no one was inside staying the night because that would’ve meant he never left the cabin. The infirmary had been slow for the past couple of days, all the more reason for his smile to be functioning. 

He didn’t bother turning any lights on when he walked inside. He knew the infirmary better than he knew his cabin and it was a cakewalk to make his way to the bathroom. The less lights on the less suspicion anyhow. 

He flicked the bathroom light on and shut the door, once again faced with himself in the mirror. His cheeks merely looked rosy as a result of the cold night air and his eyes held no sign of the tears they had spilt. It was times like these when Will appreciated his mother's genes of resisting long due cry damage. 

Maybe if Will was paying attention he would’ve noticed the other soul in the infirmary. 

Maybe if his mind wasn’t so preoccupied he would’ve heard the calling of his name. 

Maybe if his gaze wasn’t transfixed on his figure in the mirror he would’ve noticed the door creaking open and the familiar sight of his boyfriend peering cautiously. 

Maybe. But the ‘maybes’ didn’t matter.

Will smiled.

Neutral.

Smile.

Neutral.

Smile. 

The slap across his face doesn't burn nearly as bad as the shocked gasp the echoes in his ears and the terror that fills him when Nico’s bewildered eyes meet his.

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully that wasn't too bad of a read, i didn't read it all the way through before uploading because mt mind is deciding to not work but I'll probably go back and edit out mistakes at some point. 
> 
> Any kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! I love y'all!
> 
> Also, come yell at me on tumblr @solace-seekers


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